Speak Now
by barry effin gibb
Summary: Chelsea Taylor and John Cena have been best frenemies since diapers. To John, Chelsea's one of the boys and to Chelsea, John's the man of her dreams. Will she get her point across or will John remain to focus on becoming a WWE Superstar?  basedonSpeakNow
1. Mean

Speak Now  
>by barry effin' gibb<br>chapter one;  
>Mean<p>

"Forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty!" seven year old John Felix Anthony Cena called out from the round tree trunk in his front yard. He leaned back and uncovered his eyes, "Ready or not! Here I come!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, starting to scan the yard for anything that seemed out of place.

His blue eyes watched the yard for a few seconds before he heard a rusting in the bushes by the front yard and like the eager hunter, he sprinted to the source. He parted the bushes with his hands and glanced down, spotting his close friend, Chelsea Taylor.

"God, Chelsea, you suck," John told her bluntly, letting his hand reach in to help her out. He had been taught to be nice to girls, but Chelsea wasn't a girl. She hung out with the boys twenty-four seven and was one of them.

Chelsea pushed a strand of her blond hair out from her green eyes and swatted his hand away, "I don't need your help, John," she snapped, crawling out of the bushes.

John put his hands up in defense and shrugged, backing off. He stopped in mid-step, though and looked back to the girl who was smoothing out the wrinkles in her blue sundress. A dress? He curiously spun back and stared at the material.

Growing up in a house of all boys, he had seen a few things about girls – especially from his twelve year old brother who had claimed he had been to second base with a girl named Jenny in his class. He was told that girls wore dresses to impress people, mainly boys. So, of course, this caught his attention and he continued on.

"Who are you trying to impress?" he demanded, his hands on the hips of his worn out jean shorts. The entire Cena clan of brothers rarely wore shirts when they played, so John's tan little torso was showing off the mini-muscles that he was working up on. He raised an eyebrow as she looked somewhat shocked.

"Impress?" she asked, somewhat confused.

"Yeah!" he told her, ignoring the game of hide and seek, much to the dismay of the other brothers and kids of the neighborhood. "Seriously!"

"I'm not trying to impress anyone," Chelsea said simply. "My mom's making us go get pictures taken later on today and I had to wear it..."

John didn't believe her and voiced that with a, "You're lying," before stepping back again – then realizing he had one more thing to say to her. "You'd never impress anyone, Chelsea. You have no boobs!" he said, pointing to the seven year old girl who seemed close to the edge of tears. "Look at you!" John said, "You've got bruises and scrapes all over!" he said, pointing to her black and blue marks all around her body from playing.

Chelsea blinked back the tears from her eyes and walked up to John, kicking him in the shin with her saddle-shoe covered foot before starting to run to her house.

John doubled over in pain and sighed, grabbing his shin. "Brat!" he yelled after the blue dress which waved in the wind. "You're never invited here again!" He gained his composure and looked around with a groan, "OLLY OLLY OXEN FREE!" he screamed and the group of seven boys ran out and jeered that John couldn't even find them.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'll go count again," he mumbled, going back to his tree and covering his eyes. "One, two, three..."

* * *

><p>Chelsea had gone to take the photos with her mother, step-father and her two little brothers, Kyler and Keith. She came home and walked to the bathroom. Her shoes stepped up on the little step stool in front of the sink. Her little hands rested on the cool tile sink rim, staring at her reflection.<p>

Being "one of the boys" was tough, she always was the one girl that none of the Cena boys tried to kiss, even though every time they would have girls around, Matt and John would always try to make moves on the girls even though they were no older than eight. They would constantly tell the girl about how it felt to get kissed and they would never let her try it...

She had even asked John one day, since she was closest to him and he simply said, "You're not a girl."

Her heart had snapped in millions of tiny pieces and at seven, she felt like she would never be loved. The blond sighed and reached up, pulling the nice hair barrettes that her mother put in her hair to make her seem like a girly-girl. She let them rest on the sink side and washed her face before pulling her long blonde curls into a ponytail.

Chelsea's eyes looked down to her body and realized that John was right. Even at seven, she knew that she was not really going to ever get John's attention and she didn't even feel bad about that. The girl sighed and looked down to the roll of toilet paper beside her, getting an idea. She pulled off at least fifty sheets and ripped, pushing the wadded up balls into her dress, watching as they gave her an instant pair of breasts.

She pushed her shoulders back and moved from side to side, admiring her new figure before there was a sharp rap at the wooden door. She jumped back and listened.

"Chelsea?" the voice asked, "It's John," the small voice sounded from the other side. "I wanted to talk to you," he said. Chelsea knew that it was all a ruse, that he had done this because his dad probably heard everything from earlier. He was probably forced to come over and apologize to her.

Chelsea, without thinking about her chest, opened the door and watched as John's eyes trailed from her face down to her chest – looking somewhat shocked.

"What the heck are you trying to do?" he asked, reaching in and taking a strand of toilet paper that was visable, pulling the ball out. He burst out in laughter and dropped to the floor, laughing and rolling around with tears of his struggle forming in his eyes. "Oh my god! That's rich! Are you stuffing your non-existant bra?" he laughed.

Chelsea felt the tears forming in her eyes once again, shaking her head and trying to keep them from escaping her eyes. "Shut up," she said softly.

John glared at her and shook his head, "It's not my fault you're stupid!"

Chelsea glared at him and kicked, not really caring about where she would hit and found him gasp from laughter before screaming out in pain. She kicked right between his legs and stepped over his frame which was moaning aloud. She moved down the hallway and into her room, leaving John behind.

* * *

><p>Chelsea had cried herself to sleep that night, horrified at the fact that John had done what he had. But, being the big girl that she was, she got up the next morning and walked down the road to the Cena's house. When she got there, she walked up to the front door and knocked a few times, stepping back and letting her hands go to her back pockets of her faded and ripped jeans.<p>

Mr. Cena walked up to the door and smiled through the glass, opening the door enough for her to come in. "Good morning, Chelsea! Did you want to see John?" he asked with a quirked eyebrow.

"Actually, I was wondering if Matt was here," she said softly – not wanting to let John to hear her.

"He's at soccer practice, here, let me get Johnny," he said, calling out the next bit. "John! Chelsea's here!"

Chelsea shyly thanked Mr. Cena who returned back to his spot in front of the television watching reruns of AWA. Chelsea walked outside and stood on the porch, finally plopping down in a few minutes. She listened as she heard the thuds of John's feet jumping onto the landing before walking outside.

Chelsea didn't turn to face him and spoke, looking in front of her. "I'm sorry for kicking you," she told him before finally glancing over to him over her shoulder.

The young girl froze as she saw John wearing a pair of shorts and a Hulkamaniac shirt with a bunch of toilet paper wadded into his chest. He jutted his chest out and said, "Look, I'm more of a girl than you!" he chuckled, grinning from ear to ear. "Jealous, Chelsea?"

Chelsea saw red, jumping up and slapping him across the face, shaking her head and running off the porch and back onto the street, sprinting with tears down her face back to her house.

When she got into her house, she jogged up the stairs to her room and screamed into her pillow, laying face down.

"I hate John Cena! I hate him, I hate him!"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note;<strong>_

_**Hey you guys! What's up? I've been playing with this idea for a long time; using an album to tell a story and I couldn't think of a better example of an album that's been played multiple times on my iTunes! If you don't know "Speak Now" by Taylor Swift, I hope you can google or youtube the songs that are used as chapter names. This last chapter was named "Mean", after her song. As you can tell, at least if you're a Swift fan, I am not going in order. 3 I'd love to hear your ideas what song you think is coming next! Bonus points and shoutouts who get it right!**_

_**Anyways, this story will span throughout John and Chelsea's friendship and will end with John winning his latest title, so this one will take a LOT of time! 3 I hope you guys like Chelsea and everything she's standing for so far. I love how she has bruises... think about that. You'll know more about her soon. Did you like childhood Johnny boy? He was sort of rude, haha, but whatever! All boys are at that age !**_

_**If I get THREE reviews, I will update. And I will also be updating The Story of Us, Runaway and Center of Attention soon. Summer is ONE DAY AWAY for me ! : ) I love you all.**_  
><em><strong>xoxo<strong>_  
><em><strong>Ashley<strong>_


	2. Sparks Fly

Speak Now  
>by barry effin gibb<br>chapter two;  
>Enchanted<p>

**[1994 – Cushing Academy – Ashburnham, Massachusetts]**

"Have you studied for your biology test?" Matt Cena asked as he quickly in step beside his younger brother, John. Both boys had grown, John stood about five foot eleven and rather built thanks to football and weight lifting. Matt watched as his big brother stopped in his tracks.

"Biology test?" he asked, glancing up at the six-foot-two basketball player that was his brother. He cracked a smile to see that he was kidding. "Of course, last test of the semester, how could I forget?"

Matt chuckled, "Man, Springfield better have a sense of humor for your sake," he laughed, walking along with his brother into the cafeteria. He adjusted his hold on his backpack and scanned the room bustling with students.

John's blue eyes looked over the entire student body, his free hand idly playing with the purple and white mesh football jersey that was fit over his torso. He always did this while in line waiting for the horrendous high school lunch food to be slopped onto his plate.

He and his brothers had been shipped to the private high school and Chelsea followed suit. Even though John and Chelsea and he hadn't spoken in years, with the exception of school projects, his dad and Chelsea's father were the best of friends.

He had a general idea of what Chelsea was into at Cushing, she was a cheerleader for the school and every Friday night before kick off, he would watch her go through routines and catch as many glimpses as possible. At seventeen, she was the exact opposite as she was when they were kids – hell, they both were.

John had been a somewhat chunky little kid, ate everything in sight and now he was on strict diets, working rigorous work outs and had sprouted from three-foot six to near six foot in the past ten years. And Chelsea, who had been a typical little girl with long lashes and a wide smile had grown into a curvy, normal teenage girl at Cushing – who took the dress code to the limits, their skirts barely at the acceptable length and shirts with as little buttoned as possible.

Her hair had grown out and had natural curls he noticed, having seen her with both straight and curly hair on occasion. When he didn't see her sitting at her normal table, he finally clued back in and listened to his brother nag him about studying.

John let his free hand rest in his black bermuda shorts, his Cushing lanyard holding his keys in his pocket. He had one more class to take his final in and then he would be done for winter holidays. Thank goodness, he thought.

The holidays at the Cena home meant that he would have two weeks of sitting in his pajama bottoms in his home with no dress code and watch wrestling with the old man. He raised an eyebrow at Matt who asked for double servings of the mystery meat while he opted for the oatmeal – needing to bulk up by eating the least amount of food. Oatmeal let him work out and gave him fuel without making him sluggish.

He sprinkled some raisins on top and bid Matt goodbye, walking out of the cafeteria and out in the hallway. He took a spoonful and started walking, his mouth keeping the spoon face down against his tongue as he walked to where he would eat lunch every day.

When he turned the corner, he found his spot in front of his locker. He let his bag slide down and rested against the metal, reaching into his backpack and grabbed his walkman. He let the headphones rest on his ears and pushed play. The sounds of The Offspring, a new band, filled his ears as he dug into his lunch, bite after bite, bobbing his head with the songs.

As he dug his spoon in for the final bite, his eyes looked up as he realized a pair of black Mary-Jane heels stood in front of him. His blue eyes slowly slid up and saw a pair of nude panty-hose and a purple skirt that went to her mid-thigh, a white blouse with the Cushing logo on the right side, the top two buttons undone leaving enough to his imagination and blonde ringlets down.

"Chelsea," John said shocked, pulling his headphones off. "Uh..." he cleared his throat and spoke a bit more confident. "What's up? How have you been?"

Chelsea popped her hip and raised an eyebrow, chewing her bubble gum. "John, move. You're in front of my locker," she said.

He shook his head, "No, no, this one is mine," he said, knocking back on the metal door he was laying on.

"Well, if you weren't such a genetic freak," Chelsea said, "I would be able to get into my locker," she said, putting her hand on the one to her right – that John's shoulder was against. He quickly moved to stand up so she could get in.

Senior year was one semester away from ending and he had no idea that her locker was right next to his? He bit his lip and watched as she spun her combination into the locker, opening it and revealing the decorated door.

She had photos of her and her Dad... and his dad? He stared and looked on, a few pictures of her and her brothers, her mom and one of herself and... Hulk Hogan?

"You-" he stopped, shocked. Wrestling had been one thing that she hadn't seemed too into when they were friends. "You have a picture of you and Hulk Hogan?" he demanded.

Chelsea glanced up and looked to the picture and nodded once, "Yep," she said simply, throwing one of her text books in and grabbing another one which was covered in paper and Lisa Frank stickers. He watched her and was shocked that it seemed like it wasn't a big deal.

"Are you serious?" he asked as she shut her locker and started to walk off. He followed, abandoning his stuff behind. "How?"

"My mom is his lawyer," she told him. "And the lawyer of the WWF," she shrugged. "She's friends with Vince McMahon."

John looked shocked, "Why the hell did you not tell me?" he demanded.

Chelsea stopped in her tracks and glared up at John, now that he towered over her at least by a foot and a half. "It's none of your damned business," she said with a shake of her head.

She stormed off and he bit his lip, wondering if he should follow her. He hadn't spoken to her since they graduated the fourth grade and now, in four months they would be headed to college... He would be lying if he said he didn't miss her and her jokes. Sure, she had changed since they last were friends but he could tell there was still that same girl deep down inside.

He turned on his heel after watching her walk out of sight and walked back to his things, trying to find a way to get her to talk to him again.

* * *

><p>Since he had spoken to her last week, John hadn't been able to stop thinking about Chelsea. He tried every passing period to talk to her at their lockers but wasn't having any of it. She would ignore him or have a friend with her and say she couldn't talk with a friend around... even with all of these disses, he refused to let it go. And now, with them on Christmas vacation, it seemed like a lost cause.<p>

He had started to eat lunch in the cafeteria with his friends, watching for her, but she never showed up. He was about to give up when he finally voiced his frustration at the dinner table on Thursday night.

The Cena boys were digging into their meal of spaghetti that John Sr, had cooked when John finally spoke up.

"I've got something I need advice on," he said with sigh, putting his fork down.

"Yes, you should shave your head," Sean Cena said with a nod.

"No, you shouldn't give up on your dream of being an ice cream man, what with summer right around the corner," his younger brother Steve said.

"What is it, son?" Senior said with a raise of an eyebrow.

"I saw Chelsea the other day," he said.

Sean gave a wolf whistle, "I saw her the other day, she came into the shop when I was working and she was..." he trailed off. "Man, she grew up."

"You sure missed the boat on that one," Matt finished.

John groaned, "Anyways, I saw her and she looked beautiful and I can't seem to understand why she is still mad at me!"

Senior gave an incredulous look to his second oldest son. "Are you serious?" he asked. "John, if I remember correctly, all in one summer, you pushed her down a flight of stairs-"

"On accident!" John cried out.

"You told her that fire didn't burn..."

"She should have known that at age seven!" John defended.

"You threw her ice cream cone down to the ground and stomped on it," Senior continued.

"Because she said that Macho Man was better than Hulk!"

"And made fun of her for not hitting puberty until she was older," he said.

"That one I don't remember," John said.

"You proceeded to make fun of her for not having a chest and then stuffed your shirt after you saw her do the same thing one day," Senior finished.

The table got quiet.

"How do I fix it?" John asked, "I'm not a dick anymore!"

"First of all, watch your language," Senior said. "And maybe you just need to think out of your comfort zone."

"How?" John demanded.

These were the moments where John Sr. wished that his ex-wife was around more for the boys. Especially now where they were starting to date and wonder questions about the opposite sex that even he didn't have the answer to.

"Don't girls like flowers?" thirteen year old Steve quizzed.

"Give her flowers!" Sean nodded, "That's perfect. Go give them to her at her house," he said. "That way, if she denies you again, you don't have to be humiliated in front of the entire school."

John nodded and finished his dinner as he thought some ideas. "Dad," he said, "Can I borrow twenty bucks?" he asked. "I'll pay you back when I become wildly famous," he told him.

Begrudgingly, Senior grabbed his wallet out of his back pocket and handed his son a crisp twenty dollar bill. And like that, John was out of the house and in his 1992 Honda Civic.

* * *

><p>Chelsea was sitting upstairs, laying on her stomach as she watched MTV on her television, doodling idly in her diary. The pink furry pen she was using moved with ease before hearing a loud shriek from downstairs.<p>

"Chelsea!" her mother yelled out, "You have a visitor!"

Chelsea, who had a guacamole facial on her face groaned and rolled out of bed, adjusting her satin baby blue short-shorts and her gray sports bra. Even though it was snowing outside in West Newbury, she was inside a sauna thanks to her mother's obsession with heat. She pulled her blonde hair up into a ponytail and walked downstairs, expecting a cheerleader friend who just didn't have the manners to call ahead of time before visiting.

When she got to the door and cracked it open, she was shocked to see John in a pair of jean shorts and a gray hoodie, he seemed to be freezing. "What the hell?" she asked, shutting the door for a minute before undoing the chain that kept the door from opening all the way (thanks to her mother's paranoia), and opened it again. "Come in..."

John thankfully walked into the house and looked around at the home he hadn't been in for years. It looked the same but with new photos, recent photos and pictures without Chelsea's old step-dad.

"Where did Dean go?" he asked, raising an eyebrow trying to act like a friend.

Chelsea shook her head, "Vacation," she said. "What do you want?" she asked, her arms crossing against her chest to cover herself.

John pulled out a bunch of roses with snow on them behind his back and held them out to here. "Merry Christmas?" he asked hopefully.

"I don't want them," Chelsea said.

"What?" John asked, "Doesn't the creature from the black lagoon even celebrate Christmas?" he asked, pointing at her guacamole mask.

Scoffing, Chelsea rolled her eyes and opened the door for him again, letting the cool air hit him.

He flinched, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" he said. "I didn't mean it. Look, Chelsea," he said, "I use humor when I feel awkward and if this isn't awkward," he trailed off.

"I hate you," she reminded him.

John nodded, "And I understand, but I wanted to hand you these roses as a peace offering. We're graduating high school in four months and I don't want to graduate without knowing that we're alright with one another," he said.

Quietly and contemplating this, Chelsea slowly reached out for the roses before stopping. "Anything else you want to say?"

"I'm sorry for when we were kids," John nodded his head.

She pursed her lips and took the roses, "Thanks," Chelsea nodded.

"So," John said softly, "We're friends?"

Chelsea scoffed, "No, John, we're not friends. We're acquaintances, if I see you in the hallway, I may or may not acknowledge you. I won't go out of my way to talk to you until you start to prove to me that you really are sorry," she said, shaking her head.

John nodded, "Can I ask you something?"

"I suppose," Chelsea said, sniffing at the roses.

"Can I take you to dinner tomorrow night?" he asked.

"No," Chelsea said.

John grabbed the door handle.

"Awesome," he said, "I'll pick you up at seven?"

"John," Chelsea repeated, "No."

He gave a grin, "I'll see you at seven, then," he said and before she could object again – he was gone.

"Dammit," Chelsea said. When the door shut, she turned her back to the metal and inhaled the roses, giving a soft smile.

Her mother walked past and watched, "Oh? Did John give you those?" she asked.

Chelsea nodded softly, holding them out for her mother to smell.

"Those are lovely," she said. "What did he want?"

"To apologize," Chelsea informed. "And he's taking me out to dinner tomorrow night," she grinned.

"That's wonderful," her mom smiled softly before it fell. "But what will Jake think?"

Chelsea bit down on her lip. She had been dating Jake for a month, but it wasn't anything serious.

She looked up, "What he doesn't know won't hurt him," she finally decided.

"Watch what you do, Chels... but for the record, John looked amazing," she laughed.

Chelsea burst into giggles and nodded, "So dreamy," she laughed, walking back upstairs after she put the roses in a vase.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note;<strong>_

_**I KNOW I SAID, THREE REVIEWS BUT I WAS ON A ROLL. SO. **_

_**So, the brothers are in this one a lot.**_

_**Cushing Academy is a real boarding school that Cena went to – he was a prep-school brat, haha. 3 The uniforms were of my idea – I mean, they have a dress code at the school now but I used mine to make things better. ;) More of a fantasy for Cena.**_

_**Did you notice how Chelsea got a little defensive about her step-father? ;) It's gonna tie in soon, I promise.**_

_**This is my first Cena-centric story, I mean, mainly in his POV – but I think it'll switch over to Chelsea's after they graduate college. I don't know if I will work out the date in the story; the next chapter will be set at Springfield College. And after that, I'm 90% sure that it will be set with Cena at FCW trying to get into the business while Chelsea is down in Florida just keeping John company working there. And then – when Cena debuts on Smackdown – that's when I think I might set it up in mainly Chelsea's POV.**_

_**I hope you liked this chapter. 3 3 The roses? Cute?**_  
><em><strong>What will the next chapter be? ;) TELL ME, TELL ME. 3<strong>_

_**THREE REVIEWS?**_

_**xoxoxo**_

_**Ashley.**_


	3. Long Live

Speak Now  
>by barry effin gibb<br>chapter three;  
>Long Live<p>

**[1995 – Cushing Academy – Ashburnham, Massachusetts]**

Chelsea sat on the hardwood floor of the dorm and leaned back against her boyfriend's edge of the bed. She balanced her pink ink pen between her index finger and thumb, the plunger of the pen against her lip gloss covered lips.

As her head tilted to the side, she heard stirring on the bed beside her and within seconds, a pair of lips were planted in the crook of her neck. She giggled and put the book she was reading down, turning and lazily pushing John away.

"Will you stop it?" Chelsea grinned over her shoulder, fixing a strand of her blonde hair. "Not all of us have colleges drooling and stumbling over themselves to get them to go there," she smirked. "I have to study."

John's laugh echoed through the dorm and he smirked, his body leaning down and wrapping his thick arms around his tiny girlfriend, careful not to crush her. He used his upper body strength that he and his gym buddy Dan had worked on the past four years and hoisted her up onto the twin bed beside him.

"Doesn't matter, baby," John told her. "You're smart, gorgeous and determined. You'll get where you wanna go, Chels," he smirked, kissing her temple. When she dropped her pen, John gave a silent celebration and let his lips trail down her jaw.

Chelsea let him shower her in kisses but the second his hand went under her shirt, she cleared her throat. "Ahem," she said gently and immediately, the school boy retreated his hands and leaned back on his bed – watching as his girl cuddled into his chest.

"So," she whispered gently. "After this? Where do we go?"

John knew exactly what Chelsea was on about. Their senior year was going to be over in one month and he had signed his letter of intent to go to Springfield College. He'd be playing college football there and hopefully from there, go into the world of professional body building – after all, that had been his dream for so long.

"You and I go to college," he told her, his accent coating his words. "And once we've got our degrees, we're gonna get married," he smirked. "And then you're gonna have my babies, and we'll have the perfect life. A white picket fence, two and a half kids, a dog and two cars," he smiled. "I'll come home from a long hard day at work and you'll be there, with a big smile on your face and kiss me," John smirked, picturing it all like an episode of Leave it to Beaver.

"It's gonna happen, then?" Chelsea asked, her eyes closed as she relaxed at his story.

John chuckled softly, his hand running down her back soothingly.

"Of course, it's gonna happen baby," he smirked.

Chelsea bit down on her lip and sat up, looking down into his bright blue eyes.

"Promise," she demanded, holding her pinky out.

Smiling at how cute his girlfriend was, he smirked and held his pinky out.

"I promise," he said softly as their pinkies linked and she fell back into her position at his side.

* * *

><p><strong>[March 1998– Boston College – Brighton, Massachusetts]<strong>

"Are you going out tonight?"

Chelsea looked up from her spot by the fireplace in the common room of her building. She gave a smile to her room mate, Brooke and shook her head.

"No, I don't think so, John's going to come over after he goes to the gym, I think he's going to stay the night, his professor canceled his first class tomorrow," she smiled.

Brooke smirked, "How is Muscles?"

Chelsea laughed at the nickname that Brooke had given John when he helped them move their things into the dorm at the beginning of their college lives. Brooke and Chelsea had hit it off since day one and made sure to room together ever since.

"He's good, just living the life," she smirked. "He's been working out like a madman lately, I'm surprised he even makes time for me," Chelsea said softly.

"Even if he was busy, though," Brooke said, leaning against the door frame. "You know that Muscles would come over and make time for you. I mean, you guys have known each other for how long?"

The blonde smirked, thinking about how her and John's two year anniversary had been that previous Christmas.

"He's a good guy. We grew up together. Hated, and I mean, hated each other," Chelsea giggled. "He's got five brothers, they're all insane. It's enough to make me lose my own mind," she told Brooke.

Brooke smirked, "You're lucky you've got a good one," she winked. "I'm gonna head out."

After Chelsea told her to be safe and Brooke had left, she sat there in silence. If you had told the seven year old version of her that she would have been dating John – and that their relationship would be a very, very serious one – you would have been looked at it as if you had three heads.

She smiled, looking down at her book in her lap and finally leaned back – exhaling.

They were just over half way there to their dream life that John had promised that day in the dormitory.

John was twenty minutes away from her at Springfield and she was at Boston College. They'd go back home on breaks together and drive the hour long trip with music blaring and acting as if they never would be grown ups.

He often came and visited her, always interested in attending keg parties on campus and being the center of attention. She couldn't even count how many of the kids at the parties and been drunk and challenged him to a rap battle – only to be schooled and embarrassed by the kid from Springfield.

Chelsea knew that John and her were meant to be together. And she had even caught wind from John's mother Carol last time they went to West Newbury that he had been speaking of an engagement ring.

Even though Chelsea knew that they had two more years of college, that rock on her finger wouldn't hurt things. She'd make sure that she'd graduate with a degree in her desired major – journalism – and John would finish up at Springfield and walk away with the knowledge to become the world's best bodybuilder.

Sure, Chelsea wasn't too fond of his obsession with the "perfect" body, especially when she had gained her "freshman fifteen" and still hadn't really gotten around to losing it just yet. John looked perfect to her no matter what pose he was in – in or out of posing trunks.

Looking down at her watch, she realized that if John was coming, he would be walking up to the door now. She stood up and stretched quietly. The best part of Johnny boy coming to visit her meant that they could cuddle and stay in for the night.

And since today was Monday, she knew that John, while flipping through the channels on the television in her dorm, that he'd settle on professional wrestling; what she and the Cena boys would watch weekly with John's father.

She heard the door buzzer and she lazily walked over, leaning against the door and looking out of the peephole.

There, in the oddly warped vision that the glass had to offer, Chelsea saw John.

Even in the cold, brisk March air, John was wearing a pair of purple shorts and a gray Springfield hoodie. It wasn't until she had opened the door and let him in that she realized that he was wearing flip flops.

Just before she could lay into him about his wardrobe, especially when she was in a pair of (his) sweats and a fuzzy sweater, he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her lips in hello.

He didn't pull away immediately, but let his lips linger and then pressed his forehead against his.

"Mm," he said with a smirk. "I just missed those way too much."

They usually spent the weekends together, but this last Saturday, Springfield had a road game where John and the football team had to leave. He had only gotten back last night.

He grabbed her hand and rushed up the flight of stairs and laughed once they reached Brooke and her's room. "Aw, is Puny gone?" he asked with a genuine look of sadness. Brooke and John had become pretty close, almost like brother and sister. She would give him shit when he did something stupid and vice versa. Made it easy, in Chelsea's eyes.

"Yeah, she went out with Drew, I think," Chelsea explained, laying down on her bed and cuddling with her pillow.

"Ooh," John said in a mocking tone, "Drew."

Drew was a guy that had been hanging around Chelsea and Brooke once he had found out that Brooke was single. He was the kind of guy who listened to beat poetry at the local cafe, listened to bands that nobody had ever heard of – and mocked the "main stream conformists"... or the "gorillas", he had said over dinner, staring right at John.

He grabbed the remote off of the television and sighed, sitting on the bed next to her. He clicked through the channels until he found WCW and he settled in next to his girlfriend.

"You know," he said, "Me and the boys were talking. Who's to say that I have to be a bodybuilder?"

Chelsea seemed shocked.

"The fact that you've been training for the past like, ten years?" she asked. "Nock would be heartbroken!"

Dave Nock had personally trained John to become the next big bodybuilding star. He owned the gym in West Newbury where Johnny had started to train at age thirteen. It was his second home.

John shook his head, "Yeah, I know," he said, almost annoyed. "But, I just... who's to say that I can't do this?"

He motioned to the television screen where The Rock was cutting a promo.

"Who's to say that..." he paused and thought of a scenario. "Who's to say that I can't become a wrestler one day – and beat his ass out of the ring?"

Chelsea stared at the television and shrugged, "I don't know... nobody?"

"You're damn straight, nobody."

She bit on her fingernail, "But where do you even go to start wrestling?"

John shrugged, "I dunno, but I think I'm gonna try."

"After graduation," Chelsea said, more like a demand.

Cooling slightly, John nodded. "After graduation..."

Chelsea slowly nodded.

"Well," she said softly. "I'll support you with whatever you choose to do, you know that."

John smirked, "I know," he nodded. "That's why I told you first."

He pressed his lips against her temple and turned his attention back to the television set.

"One day," he whispered as the Rock's music hit and the show turned to a commercial.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note;<br>Hey, you guys! I 'm sorry that it's taken me so long to figure out what to do with this story line. I thought I was stuck using one song for this next chapter, but I just shrugged it off and decided to go with Long Live by Taylor to fit this chapter.**

I think this chapter is cute – I love the Chelsea/John dynamic, it's really fun to write. Haha, I try to stay as close to the stories that I've heard from John's DVDs – both "My Life" and "The John Cena Experience", I just want my Cena story to be relevant. Haha.

The foreboding in this chapter is so epic. How he watched The Rock on the television and says, "Who's to say?"

Five reviews, maybe? ;]

Thank you to all my readers who love this story! :]

xoxo  
>Ashley]<p> 


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